


Skin to Skin

by quietpastelcolours



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Soulmate AU, and those words are the first thought of the other person, basically a very self-indulgent soulmate au oneshot, does this even make sense lmao, the kind w words written on their body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 11:37:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11230140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietpastelcolours/pseuds/quietpastelcolours
Summary: The words inscribed on Satya's skin have plagued her for years, and when she finds their author, it isn't who she expects.





	Skin to Skin

If there was anything she’d noticed about Jamison Fawkes, it was that he seemed to be utterly incapable of shielding his innermost thoughts.

Satya tilted her head slightly as she considered this thought, her gaze travelling down the length of Junkrat’s body to frown slightly at his prosthetic leg. She found his prosthetics fascinating, in a primitive sort of way. She was rather astounded that he had been able to create prosthetics with such a range of motion, with such precise movements. His metal fingers moved in much the same way as hers did, even though Satya knew for a fact that her prosthesis was worlds ahead in terms of technology. His leg seemed to be much more simplistic, with care lavished on the hinge of the knee (a rather vital component, she had to admit) and the peg that he stood upon was almost an afterthought. Satya rather liked this thought, for it seemed to her that much of what he did seemed to be an afterthought.

Junkrat was sprawled upon the floor of the workshop, concentration etched upon his brow and bright orange paint splattered near his mouth, which Satya itched to wipe off. He was lying on his stomach carefully detailing a new batch of mines with pungent paint, and mingled with the scent of smoke carried in his hair. Satya’s almost indulgent smile turned to a grimace as she recalled having to extinguish him when he’d set himself alight nearly an hour earlier. Despite her insistence, he’d refused to go to the medibay for any burns, and instead started pulling out paint. He had his bare foot and peg sticking up into the air, swinging absently through the air as he stuck his tongue out of his mouth and grimaced at the grenade in his hand.

Junkrat kept his eyes trained on the grenade in front of him when he became aware of Symmetra’s gaze on his form. Curious as to why she was looking (he’d probably got paint all over his arse or something), Junkrat tucked his chin and gave her a cautious glance. Her face held that sort of severe expression she often wore – not exactly displeased, but not happy either. Lúcio called it ‘resting snob face’, and Junkrat had to agree. Symmetra’s gaze lingered around his feet, and Junkrat’s brows contracted as he wondered what she was looking at, then got distracted by her posture.

Symmetra definitely wasn’t one to laze about – even now, stretched out in her chair and resting an elbow on her workbench, he’d almost call it a slouch, but he was pretty sure she’d never slouched a day in her life. Even reclined and relaxed as she was now, she looked like a damn queen. The angle of her body emphasised the curve of her hips, wrapped in the kind of skirt that made him itch to smooth his palms over her, and then help her out of it, and then- Junkrat shook his head for a moment to clear his mind. Symmetra wasn’t the kind of woman to be thought about that way – he knew she considered them to be friends, which had kind of surprised him at the beginning – when they’d first met, he wouldn’t have thought they’d end up friends. Still, she was too queenly to be thought about lewdly – and besides, he didn’t think she thought those kinds of things either. McCree said women like that had two settings – they were either saints who had never done anything improper ever in their lives, or were filthy sex freaks behind closed doors. Junkrat tried not to, but he couldn’t help wonder if Symmetra was one of _those_ women.

As he watched her, her gaze shifted and travelled up his body slowly enough to make goosebumps rise on his arms, and Junkrat wondered what she could possibly be thinking, for her face revealed nothing. When she realised he was watching her watch him, as slight look of surprise chased by a hint of embarrassment crossed her pretty features, and then she tilted her head slightly, her gaze still trained on him.

“I got paint on me?” Junkrat cleared his throat and asked, sure that was the reason for her stare.

Symmetra shook her head. “No.” She said softly, and left it at that. She did that quite a bit, actually, and it was _maddening_. Junkrat raised a brow in an attempt to prompt her into continuing. “I was just thinking about your prosthetics.” She said at length. “They’re quite interesting.”

Satya had to suppress a smile as a broad grin split Junkrat’s face, revealing a flash of gold. He wiggled his prosthetic hand cheerfully.

“Yeah? What were y’thinkin’?” He asked curiously, and Satya half shrugged one shoulder.

“I wasn’t thinking anything in particular, really. I was just trying to picture how you built them.”

“Oh yeah?” Junkrat sat up and promptly dripped paint all over his shorts. Satya hid a smile behind her hand as his annoyed swearing singed the air.

He looked up once he’d wiped the majority of the paint up. “Don’t work perfect, does it? Stupid fucker went an’ dropped the paintbrush.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Satya sat up slightly, the inner mechanics of his prosthetic now firmly in the centre of her interests. “Have you not considered making some changes?”

“All the time.” Junkrat gave his orange hand a fond look. “Anytime I come across some new parts, I bung ‘em in an’ see how she goes.”

“But you can’t find a definitive fix?” Satya was busy deconstructing what she knew of his hand in her mind; he’d told her bits and pieces about it in the past, though he’d only really opened up recently – Junkrat had been nothing if not suspicious of anything and everything when he’d first arrived. How she’d disliked him then – a filthy hovel of a man, more concerned with his explosives than his personal wellbeing; Satya had barely spoken to him. However, he seemed to have a pathological need to speak, and so whenever there had been no one else in the workshop for him to bother, it was Satya who was roped into conversation. Overtime, the chore that speaking to him had been had developed into a sort of odd friendship.

“Nah.” Junkrat shook out his fingers, then curled them back in. “I mean, I reckon I’d have t’replace her fully t’do that, an’ I don’t wanna do that.”

“Why ever not?” Satya inquired. That seemed like madness to her. Why wouldn’t anyone want to upgrade, if it was available?

A hint of stubbornness crossed his face. “She’s been through a lotta shit, y’know. Faithful an’ all that. Ain’t gonna just chuck her out.”

Judging from a glance at Junkrat’s side of the workshop, Satya supposed it wasn’t unfair to call him a bit of a hoarder. “I suppose that’s fair enough.”

“Mm.” Junkrat gave his hand a satisfied glance, then raised a brow. “What about yours? Do y’replace it?”

“Certainly I do.” Satya arched a brow right back. “I’ve had the entire prosthetic replaced three times since I got it, and I have the core components upgraded twice a year.”

Junkrat whistled through his teeth. “Why’s that?”

Satya shrugged elegantly. “Technology advances rapidly these days. If I want to keep up, I have to stay ahead of the curve.”

“Guess that’s the advantage of havin’ an arm like mine.” Junkrat said brightly. “Don’t hafta worry about all that.”

“I suppose.” Satya tilted her head. “…May I ask, was it difficult to build the first time?”

“Eh, a bit.” Junkrat shrugged and gave his hand a critical once over. “Didn’t really know what I was doin’ at first, but I figured it out eventually.”

“You didn’t know what you were doing?” Satya’s brows furrowed slightly. “How on earth did you get on if you didn’t know? Did you find some sort of instruction?”

“Nah, was just what I had in me head.” Junkrat grinned at her. “‘Sides, I already had the frame. Just had t’figure out how t’make it move.”

 _That_ confused her. “The frame? What do you mean?”

Junkrat grinned to himself, because Symmetra looked _fascinated_. He knew she tended to look down on anything that wasn’t hard light as being inferior, but at the same time she took delight in figuring out what made those non-hard light objects tick. In answer to her question, he lifted his hand and waved at her.

“This hand’s from a Bastion unit.” He grimaced at the words; he didn’t often like to think about the origins of his hand, but it was the truth. He’d had the hand in his collection of scavenged bits, and when he’d lost his forearm, he’d found he’d had a replacement, all ready to go after some heavy modification.

Symmetra’s eyes widened. “ _Oh_.” She got up then and came towards him to kneel beside him. She tucked her hair behind her ear and motioned at his hand. “May I?”

Junkrat put his hand into hers and watched as she turned it over in her grasp, running her own fingers over his, bending and curling the metal digits and watching the movements of the pulleys through the gaps in the casing.

“How fascinating.” She murmured, and glanced up. “But a Bastion hand couldn’t simply fit on your arm and work like a prosthetic. You must have had to do some extensive work.”

“Oh yeah.” Junkrat nodded and flexed his fingers, then tipped his hand palm up to show her the hatch at the underside of his wrist. He popped it open and showed her the various pulleys and wires within. “I basically gutted it, fixed it up so it’d stay on me stump, then got m’grubby mitts on some neuroboards and other tech to make it work. Was dodgy as fuck for the first year or two, but y’know, kept findin’ new parts an’ tryin’ out new things, an’ she’s only improved.”

Symmetra smiled at him. “It’s very impressive.”

 _That_ made him giggle. “Cheers.” Junkrat faded into silence and he watched Symmetra for a moment. She was very close. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, her expression soft.

The moment was interrupted by the sounds of footsteps from outside the workshop through the open door – they both listened as Zarya and Mei ambled past, hand in hand. Symmetra’s expression turned contemplative – and a little wistful.

“It’s sweet to see them.” She said softly, and Junkrat shrugged.

“I guess.”

“I mean, that they found each other. There’s so many that won’t now, since the war.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Junkrat frowned slightly. Mei had found Zarya when she’d travelled to Russia for her environmental work, and the two had been inseparable since then. Since the first humans, people had always been intended for each other, and since then, there had always been those who never found their other half, tragedies caused by injury, illness, and fate. Since the omnic crisis and the deaths of so many thousands of people across the world, so many had survived only to see the words inscribed on their skin fade, proof that their intended had perished.

“Did you… ever find yours?” Symmetra asked softly, and he stiffened slightly. Words were private, deeply so, even though everyone knew that nearly everyone had them.

Seeing his silence, Symmetra rushed to fill the gap. “That is, if you have any…” She trailed off and bit her lip. Some people never got words at all, and went through life without a partner.

“Nah, I got ‘em.” Junkrat frowned as he thought about his markings, a strange jumble of shapes on his thigh. “Won’t find ‘em though.”

“You won’t? Have they faded?”

“Nah, they’re there. Just can’t read ‘em.”

Satya stared at Junkrat, not entirely sure if she believed her own ears. “You can’t _read_ them-?”

He cut her off. “Nah, don’t go thinkin’ what yer thinkin’.” He sounded a bit irritable, like he’d had to explain this a few times over the years. “It’s not in English. Matter of fact, I dunno what it is. Can’t even look it up, ‘cause there’s nothin’ that I can figure out t’look up.”

“Oh.” Curiosity took over. “You don’t have any idea?”

Junkrat shook his head. “Nope. Just kinda figured, if it were meant t’be, they’d find me.” A slightly worried expression crossed his face. “‘Course, I don’t speak any other language, an’ this ain’t English, implyin’ that whoever my words belong to is from some other country. What if they don’t speak English? We’d be roight fucked.”

It wasn’t really a laughing matter, but the thought of Junkrat standing with his soulmate, neither of them able to communicate with the other, amused her.

Junkrat narrowed his eyes at her expression. “Roight, so what about you?” He asked. “You got any words?”

Satya pursed her lips. “I have them.” And she did _not_ like them. Scrawled in the most horrendous chicken scratch handwriting on her lower ribs on the right side of her body was an inscription in English, which had surprised her once her words had appeared at the age of sixteen. The meaning of her words had shocked her, and was the reason she’d not worn a bikini when swimming in _years_. The words that appeared on a person’s skin detailed the first thought their soulmate had the first time they laid eyes on the other, and by all accounts, her intended had something of a vulgar mind. _Fuck, I want those thighs wrapped ‘round me head,_ was not something that you shared amongst others while discussing your soulmate. They also seemed to be fond of grammatically incorrect English, and it annoyed her to have such an inaccuracy inked on her skin.

Junkrat looked surprised at her expression. “Y’don’t want any words?” He asked. “Y’don’t want a soulmate?”

“It isn’t that.” Satya sighed slightly. “I’m just… not overly fond of what they say.”

He giggled. “What’s it say?”

“ _That_ is none of your business.” Satya said primly. “You know… I speak several languages. If you showed me yours, I might be able to recognise it. You’d at least know where they’re from.”

Junkrat’s face brightened. “Yeah? Roighto, have a crack at it.”

He dropped his hands to his left thigh, his good leg, and tugged up his patchy shorts to reveal pale skin unmarred by dirt, soot or paint. Instead, his skin was crossed with elegant, looping characters in a language that Satya was _intimately_ acquainted with.

Junkrat frowned at Symmetra’s expression changed, becoming quite blank as she stared at the gibberish scrawled across his thigh. Her face turned ashen as she stared, and then she raised a hand as if to touch his letters, but not quite.

“Sym?” He asked in a whisper, but when she didn’t respond, he cleared his throat and tried again. “Symmetra?”

She at last raised her eyes to his, her expression very strange. Her hands drifted to her blouse, and she tugged it free of her skirt and began undoing the lower buttons.

“Er… Symmetra?” Junkrat giggled nervously, not quite comprehending what she was doing. “What-” His words trailed away when he took in the letters written across her ribs. Hers were in English. Hers were in his handwriting. Her words… were _his_. Junkrat blinked, feeling a bit dazed as he read and reread it. “Jesus.” He whispered, and she lowered her shirt and then her expression became a mixture of amused and indignant.

“Was that _really_ what you thought when you first met me?”

 _Ah, fuck._ Junkrat thought back to when they’d first met – he and Roadie had been hired by Winston and they’d met up for a mission, and when all was over the two Junkers had sort of tagged along in an attempt to get on the straight and narrow. He’d first seen Symmetra on that mission, all dolled up in a dress whose skirt was slit to the thighs. Jesus, how’d she think he _wouldn’t?_

“Fuck, Sym. Y’think I wouldn’t? Hafta have rocks for eyes not t’think that.” His words were a bit blustery and defensive, and Junkrat frowned as she arched a brow. “What? Y’seen yer legs recently? Fuckin’ incredible.”

A hint of colour appeared on her cheeks as she bit her lip, and the moment stretched on and as Junkrat watched her, their gaze locked together and emotion brimming in her beautiful golden eyes, suddenly the enormity of this hit him. This was _her_ , the woman whose thoughts were etched on his skin, a face to the faceless entity he’d pictured over and over in his mind at night for years. This was _Symmetra_ , the woman who he spent time with in the workshop, bouncing ideas off one another and offering fresh perspectives on their respective projects… and she was the one destined to be his, and he hers.

Junkrat raised his hand slowly and ran his fingers through her hair. Symmetra watched him wordlessly, though when his fingers brushed along her jaw her breath hitched and her lips parted gently, tempting him to sweep his thumb lightly along her lower lip. Her warm breath ghosting over his thumb sent a tremble down his spine, and she lifted her hand to take his and hold it in both of hers.

Satya couldn’t seem to catch her breath. _This_ was the man she was meant to find? _Junkrat?_ This scruffy, oily mess of a man who could barely dress himself? Actually, she could see the words written on her body coming from his mouth. As the thought entered her mind, her body flushed with heat – his first thought upon seeing her for the first time had been wanting his head buried between her thighs. Did he still want that? Her breathing shallowed slightly and she swallowed hard. _Junkrat_. Could she see herself waking up beside him in the morning, see herself sharing her life with him?

As she watched him, his slightly stunned expression morphed into a grin with such _warmth_ in it Satya couldn’t help but smile in return. She was still holding his hand in both of hers, so she looked down at it while she put her thoughts in order. Satya traced her fingers across his warm palm and her smile widened, for it felt – right. When he’d touched her just before, his warm fingers trailing down her jaw, it’d made her shiver down her bones, and the finality of it settled into her skin. This was _Junkrat_ – and he was hers and she was his.

“Junkrat.” She said softly, then recalled his name. “Jamison.”

His eyes widened slightly at his name on her lips, and colour appeared high on his cheeks and stained his ears pink.

“Symmetra.” He croaked, and she smiled and drew a little closer. He mirrored her movements, drifting close until they were barely an inch apart.

“Perhaps you should call me Satya.” She murmured, and he visibly swallowed.

“Satya.” His voice was faint, and then Satya could _feel_ it – it was as though a line had knotted itself behind her heart, a line that had fastened itself in a similar fashion behind Jamison’s. She lifted a hand to thread into his hair as her lips parted, and then he leaned in and kissed her.

His lips were warm and hesitant against hers, as though he feared scaring her away. Satya found she objected to this and so she deepened the kiss, parting her lips to sweep her tongue along the seam of his, eliciting a groan from deep in his throat. The sound sent a spark of heat sweeping through her body, and Satya ran her hand up his arm to his shoulder to pull him closer, her other hand still clenched in his hair. Jamison’s hands landed on her waist, the pressure of his metal hand inciting an interesting contrast against fingers made of flesh. He tugged her closer and then Satya didn’t seem to be able to get close enough to him and she ended up settled in his lap, straddling his thighs as she kissed him hard. Jamison’s hand ran firmly up the length of her back to twine into her hair, mussing it terribly though Satya found she couldn’t quite care as his heat soaked into her skin and his metal hand rucked up her blouse at her lower back.

She broke the kiss almost reluctantly but stayed right where she was in his lap. Jamison grinned at her, lifting a hand to brush her hair back behind her ear for her.

“So what’s mine say?” He murmured, leaning in to nuzzle at the skin behind her ear. Satya shivered and had to ask him to repeat himself, so distracted was she by his lips on her skin.

Jamison chuckled against her neck then pulled back, his molten eyes glinting with humour. “My words.” He enunciated slowly, then tapped his upper thigh with some difficultly, seeing as Satya was still sitting in his lap. “What’d y’think when y’first saw me?”

Junkrat felt it was very telling when Satya’s flush deepened and she pursed her lips.

“Whadija think?” He prompted, then waggled his brows. “Can’t be any worse than mine.”

Satya huffed a slight laugh and arched a brow. “ _I_ don’t think so.”

“C’mon.” He wheedled. “Dunno what language it is even.”

She released her breath in a rush and looked embarrassed, her fingers warm on his chest. “It’s Telugu.” She admitted, and Junkrat grinned.

“Well, y’can tell me now, or I’ll get Athena t’give us a hand.”

Satya narrowed her eyes. “Fine. I thought, ‘ugh, who let _that_ in here?’”

It took him a second, but then Junkrat tipped his head back and dissolved into laughter. When at last he’d recovered, he had to wipe moisture from his eyes before he could see Satya smiling in a slightly embarrassed way.

“So you see, we _both_ thought some unsavoury things-” She began, but Junkrat cut in.

“Oh, I dunno ‘bout that. Don’t really remember what I thought when I first saw ya, but-” He trailed his fingers over her ribs where her words were written. “-I’ll take yer word for it, but I reckon I got pretty good taste, ay?”

Satya inhaled softly and her teeth worried her lower lip, her fingers tightening on his shoulders. “You think so?” She murmured, and Junkrat couldn’t help himself. He leaned down to kiss that tempting mouth and sighed as she opened for him, her fingers sliding into his hair.

“I know so.” He breathed against her lips, and she smiled a smile he felt rather than saw.

“I can’t believe it’s you.”

“Me neither.” Junkrat was, quite frankly, thrilled to bits. How could he of _all_ people lucked out enough to be destined for such a stunning, _incredible_ woman? It defied belief. He gathered her closer and buried his nose in her sweet-smelling hair. “I’m real glad, though.”

“Mm. I am, too.” Satya twined her arms around his neck and tugged him closer, and Junkrat closed his eyes and let himself revel in the contact of her warm body against his, of the knowledge that they were meant for each other, and let himself enjoy the moment, together.

**Author's Note:**

> this was vERY self-indulgent lmao


End file.
